


One Hundred Bricks, One Hundred Feathers

by ChubbyPanda15



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Fantasy, High Fantasy, M/M, War, violent descriptions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChubbyPanda15/pseuds/ChubbyPanda15
Summary: The man in Harry Potter’s soul dreams was tall, handsome, and graceful. He had dark brown hair that curled elegantly across his forehead, stunning scarlet eyes, and…He wore the seal of the Slytherin family on nearly every piece of rich, luxurious, expensive clothing Harry saw him in.It was not fair, Harry thought to himself, that his soulmate should be the ruling king of an enemy nation.In a world of magic, warring kingdoms, and soulmates, Harry Potter feels caught in a spider’s web of tragedy and pain. He is a seer, as well as the youngest advisor to King Albus Dumbledore of the Gryffindor Mountains. He also happens to be the soulmate of Lord Voldemort, King of Slytherin.Nobody knows. Not his family, not his friends, not his king. His soulmate does not know anything about him aside from his first name. But after years of visions of his soulmate, after years of sharing dreams, the King of the Snakes is closing in on who he really is, and Harry knows, deep down, that there is no escaping the gaze of the Basilisk Lord.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 61
Kudos: 625





	One Hundred Bricks, One Hundred Feathers

**Chapter One**

Harry sat patiently at the loud war room table, between his father, Lord Potter, and his godfather, General Black. It was a long, low room that was made of grey stone, had no windows, and was mostly taken up by an oval oak table that was currently occupied by the members of the war council.

Many of whom were currently yelling in disbelief over the recent decimation of Hogsmeade.

“Those slimy snakes!” His godfather, Sirius, roared. This was a favored phrase of his, along with, “evil cockroaches” and “bloodsucking leeches.”

“Hogsmeade was a peaceful farming town!” One of the men opposite Harry cried out. Wiggle? No, no, Diggle. Daedalus Diggle. “It was not deserving of this!”

It was true, none in the now-decimated village deserved the fate that they had met. But Harry felt a small stirring of self-righteousness.

I warned you, he thought. The members of the council had dismissed his visions of wheat fields engulfed in flames as mere paranoia, and now the people of Hogsmeade were dead.

They were dead, and Harry felt at fault. He should have pled his case harder.

Though, he reminded himself as he looked at the other council members, it was not fair to give himself all of the blame. Quite a few of them did not understand or believe in his Sight.

There were more reasons for this guilt than just a lack of dedication.

Finally, King Albus raised a wrinkled hand, and the noise came to an abrupt halt.

“Now is not the time for outrage and panic,” he said quietly, voice heavy with sorrow. “We have all been dealt a devastating loss, both personally and as a kingdom.”

King Dumbledore’s own brother had been slaughtered during the siege. Aberforth’s head had been mounted to a pike, and was the first thing the reinforcements had seen. Its blue eyes had been glazed over, and his skin had been starting to go grey as it drooped slowly off of the skull it had once belonged to.

Harry had thrown up once he had left that vision.

The loss had clearly affected their normally cheerful and serene leader.

“Aye,” McGonagall, King Dumbledore’s right hand agreed. “We must reassess our defenses, and the swiftness of our reactions to attacks like these. This is the closest they have ever gotten to Godric’s Hollow.”

“I say we need to plan a counterstrike,” Alastor Moody, Dumbledore’s left hand, interjected. “Show them we won’t take this lying down!”

There were various murmurs rolling across the round table. Moody and McGonagall rarely ever agreed on a course of action. They were like the Ares and Athena of Gryffindor, representing both war and strategy respectively.

“Is it really wise to go on the offensive?” Lord Pettigrew said nervously, eyes darting back and forth. He was one of Harry’s father’s close friends, and Harry considered the man an uncle. “Slytherin has already proven their strength…”

“Against a band of grocers,” Moody growled. “We’ll show them they’re nothing but a bunch of cowards against the true might of Gryffindor’s army.”

“By sacrificing more innocent lives?” McGonagall asked.

“No, by grounding them all into the dirt!”

And the yelling started up again. Harry glanced at King Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye. The ancient man was watching the arguing once again, eyes keen, but face still deeply lined.

“Harry, my boy,” Dumbledore said, and the room went quiet again. Harry stiffened, feeling all of the eyes on him. His father patted him on his knee in a show of support. “Have you seen anything recently?Anything that can give us an idea of what Voldemort’s next move is?” Dumbledore’s blue eyes were gentle, yet probing. Harry knew the king would never use his mind-reading ability on him, but sometimes it was like he didn’t have to. Those blue eyes could read Harry’s thoughts as easy as if they were printed words on a page.

The picture of Aberforth Dumbledore’s head flashed through him again, and Harry felt his gut clench. He steeled his resolve. The council had to know what he had been seeing, despite how much it made his skin crawl. How much it put Harry himself at risk.

“Recently,” Harry said slowly, “there have been images of a pair of crowns in the future, with emeralds set into silver, and snakes forming the band. The edges are blurry, though-”

Hestia Jones gasped, and Diggle almost fell out of his chair. The room was in chaos, and Sirius and his father were yelling at each other over his head.

This time, a mere gesture of a hand was not enough, even if it was to be done by the King.

Dumbledore stood up, his presence demanding their attention even if he was, physically, a frail , skeletal man. His unusually dark and bland clothes, mourning attire, hung limply from his fragile shoulders.

“So, Lord Voldemort is finally searching for his soulmate,” he said. His half moon glasses gleamed as he looked down at the map of their continent. “That does explain the boldness of his attack, to a degree…”

“Do you suppose he is having tandem dreams, Albus?” Lord Potter asked, ruffling his unkempt hair in worry.

“That is something we cannot know, until I hear word back from Severus.”

“It could take months to get word from that bat,” General Black growled. “We don’t have that kind of time. Who knows what kind of abilities Voldemort’s soulmate is going to have? Merlin knows the asshole is strong enough on his own.”

Harry looked up at his godfather, who had his hackles raised just like the grim he could transform into.

“We need to find whoever it is first, and eliminate the threat,” Moody said, thumping his pegleg against the ground. “Not only will it get rid of the unknown element, it will weaken Voldemort enough to take him out as well.”

“Aren’t we getting a bit ahead of ourselves, Alastor?” McGonagall said. “Whoever it is might not be a threat at all.”

“Yes, and I’m a canary.” Sirius snarked, and Harry did his best to smile at his godfather’s traditional lack of respect. He was feeling very sick all of a sudden.

Dumbledore took a deep breath. “I will never advocate for hurting innocent people. But you are right that we need to locate this person; they could turn the tide of this war. Do you have any ideas as to who it could be, Harry?”

Again, all of the eyes were boring holes into Harry’s face.

He shook his head. “No, not yet. I will keep trying.”

“That is all we can ask.” Dumbledore sat back down in his chair. “For now, I will adjourn this meeting, and ask that you all keep an ear out for any possible leads. Minerva, Alastor, please go on ahead to my study. James, Sirius, if you could both stay behind?”

Harry looked between the two men as everyone else stood and started to file out of the room, some looking unsettled, some looking afraid.

James put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “We’ll be out soon, Harry. Wait outside?”

Harry smiled up at his father and stood from his own seat. “Sure, Dad. See you soon.” Peter was waiting at the doorway, and Harry hurried to him as his father and godfather went to the king.

They walked out into the hallway together, where a few pairs of council members stood, whispering. As soon as they saw Harry, they scattered like mice.

“It is bizarre that they worry more about you seeing their private moments than our king, who can pluck them out of the air,” Peter said, laughing slightly. Harry laughed too.

One of his favorite things about Peter, he always knew just what to say.

“They trust the king not to, I suppose,” Harry said. He leaned up against the wall opposite the war room door, next to the window. The sun was setting off in the distance, making the autumn leaves on the trees flare up like they were on fire. Harry’s favorite thing about the castle was that it felt like you could see all of Godric’s Hollow from every window. Even now, he could see people rushing about among their cottages. Children were playing, jumping from old stump to old stump in their backyards. Men and women were working in their gardens, or rocking on their porches.

From this height, the war might as well have been a child’s game.

Peter hummed, also admiring the view. He stood next to Harry, the both of them being around the same height, though Peter’s hair was shorter, more controlled. Neither of them said anything else, but they didn’t really have to. Peter, much like Harry’s mother had been, was content in silence.

This close to evening, Harry really had nothing to say.

***

_Harry found himself in a foreign yet familiar throne room. It was grand, made of black obsidian for the floors and a glass ceiling that opened up to the night sky. The way to the silver throne was lined with columns made of the same gleaming blackness. The walls were decorated with emerald hangings, the color of the Slytherin family. There were also ornate paintings of past kings, framed in silver and diamonds._

_The whole room was dripping in grandeur, but Harry was truly only interested in the man that was pacing back and forth in front of the throne, his simple yet form-fitting black robes flowing behind him, trailing along next to his bare feet._

_It was still a surprise, to know that such a powerful, dangerous man preferred being barefoot when he was alone. It was such an intimate detail to know about someone._

_“Good evening, my jewel,” he said, his voice echoing in the empty chamber to where Harry was standing next to one of the columns. Harry did not respond. “How was your day?” Again, Harry said nothing._

_This was a routine. Harry would always try not to say anything, to give Voldemort nothing, but it never lasted very long._

_At least, Harry had yet to accidentally reveal anything incriminating._

_“My day was decent, thank you for asking,” Voldemort continued, never once stopping his pacing. His voice was a light, playful purr. Completely intoxicating. “Mostly meetings, though there was some time for horseback riding in the evening, as well as some fencing. Do you enjoy horseback riding?”_

_Silence. The only noise in the room was the soft slithering of Voldemort’s robes on the polished stone. Then, he stopped walking._

_“Won’t you approach me, my dear?” Voldemort asked, for all the world sounding like a doting husband._

_Harry could only see his back from this angle. They were ten feet apart here, in their tandem dream, but Harry could still see the distance between their physical selves in his minds’ eye. Separated by countries, by politics. By morals. Harry knew his soulmate had them, but he also knew that he was quite adept at shelving them for his own ambitions._

_Voldemort turned slowly, and the look in his eye made the hair on the back of Harry’s neck stand on end._

_His stunning scarlet eyes were always consumed with want, with adoration, when he looked at Harry, and Harry’s own heart ached with want._

_Want for the person who he knew better than the back of his own hand._

_For the person who centered in so many of Harry’s visions._

_For the broken boy, the lonely teenager, and the strong man._

_Again, the image of Aberforth’s head showed itself in Harry’s own mind, and he had to close his eyes against the approaching figure. There were just too many versions of his soulmate to reconcile into one._

_Voldemort’s breath fanned over Harry’s face._

_“Did you like my gift, Harry?” he whispered, and Harry’s eyes fluttered back open, green meeting red._

_“What gift?” the words were drawn from him like a fish at the end of a line. Voldemort lifted a hand, holding it next to Harry’s cheek, centimeters away._

_Harry wanted and did not want to be touched by those long, pale fingers. But touching was impossible here, in this dreamscape. It was one of the most sacred rules of tandem dreaming. The touching of the minds, not the skin._

_“I know, Harry,” he said, red eyes roaming over every pore on Harry’s face. Harry was also just as addicted to the details of Voldemort. “I know that it is Dumbledore, who keeps you from me.”_

_Harry reared back. “What?” he choked out._

_Voldemort stayed where he was. “Do not be so surprised, precious. I know, that if it were not for Dumbledore, you would have come to me long ago. It must be him. And so,” Voldemort stalked forward. “He had to be punished.”_

_Harry started to move backwards, not allowing himself to be pinned against any of the columns, maneuvering himself into the middle of the long hall._

_“Yes, he had to be punished,” Voldemort continued, voice just as light and playful as when Harry had first appeared in this room. “And the best punishment for Gryffindors, is always the family. Did you know he had a brother, Harry?”_

_Aberforth’s head, detached from his shoulders, which had been so much thicker than Albus’. The barest point of spine, of white bone, poking underneath the skin of the man’s chin and neck._

_“Perhaps word has yet to reach you, wherever you are in those damn mountains…” Voldemort whispered. “But you will know soon, Harry… Soon you will know the depths of my affection for you.”_

_Blue eyes, just like the King’s. Dull. Lifeless._

_“I did it myself, Harry. Lord Voldemort sullied his hands, personally, just for you.”_

_Harry looked up, and once again his eyes met adoring scarlet inches from his own again. Magnets, drawn into one another._

_“I will find you, my jewel. Just tell me where you are, and Lord Voldemort will find you-”_

_Harry could not take it anymore. He lunged forward, and as soon as his hand met the firm chest of his soulmate-_

He woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is a new pet project of mine, that is once again a large amalgamation of aus. I hope you enjoy it!


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